Fantasy of Flight (4 page)

Crystal rolls her eyes and turns away.

“I don’t see how you can be nineteen,” Blizzard continues. “But it doesn’t matter. What does matter is your initiation into our…”

“Snow pack?” Flurry offers.

“No, that’s stupid,” Blizzard says.

“What about the cold crew?” Ice asks.

Shard clears his throat. “I think we’re getting off topic. How about we just use the pack?” Murmurs of agreement meet his words.

I feel my heart begin to thud. I’m more afraid now than when I stepped into the pit today. I look across the table at Flurry for some hint; his face is usually the most expressive. He blushes and looks away. He’s started doing this in the last few days.

Shard fills six small glasses. Everyone grabs one and with no small amount of dread, I do the same. The men raise their drinks. I know what this is! It’s a toast. Adnan, one of the delegates, slurred his way through one at my belated birthday party.

There’s no speech this time.

“Tits and ass!” Ice shouts. As I watch in confusion, they turn to each other and clink their glasses twice. I turn to Blizzard, who laughs at me.

“You clink your glass at the top and then the bottom. Tits and ass. See?” He explains as the others grimace from the taste of the drink. What a vile thing to say. However, I’ve come this far. I clink my glass with Blizzard’s, dutifully murmuring “tits and ass” to the hilarity of all, and swallow the liquid.

My eyes water as the liquid burns its way down. This alcohol is about ten times worse than the stuff I drank at the castle. I cough a few times and thump my chest, holding up the empty glass. The room cheers. Maybe now I can go. I move to stand. Avalanche’s hand pushes me back down.

I watch in horror as Flurry refills the glasses.

Shard leans toward me. I realize his eyes are sparkling - even with the swelling. He is not masking them, for once, and intelligence burns out of them. In fact, for a person I’d initially dismissed, he’s turned out to be the most dangerous here.

“Wishing you were back in the pits?” he asks.

I crack open an eyelid and the room is spinning around me. Bad. I feel bad. What happened last night? I rub a hand over my face and sit up, clutching my head so it doesn’t explode.

So much drink. Too much. There was the second glass and then a few more. The alcohol had started to taste alright. My stomach lurches as I recall its smell. How did I get back to my room? Why is my memory gone? This can’t be normal. I groan and lower myself back onto the bed. Veni, what if I said something? Or revealed I was Solati? After a few more spins, I decide I’d have been thrown to the Watch by now if the others knew my secret. How did the night get so out of control? Not that I was given much of a choice and I had to admit the fighter’s acceptance felt good. Still, I could’ve said no.

My assembly friends at the castle call this a hangover. Whatever it is, it’s not worth it.

I’m never drinking again.

I enter the mess room and find Crystal and Alzona with their heads together at the table. They look up and snigger at my appearance. I reach a hand up and realize my hair is a disaster.

“First to bed and first to wake,” Alzona sings. 

“So,” I say, breathing through the rising nausea. “What happened last night?” I reach up and braid my hair over one shoulder.

“What didn’t happen?” Crystal laughs. “I hope to never hear you sing again in my life. I would drink some water if I were you.”

I groan and rest my head on the table. It’s easier than holding it up. Maybe I’ll sleep here. I hear footsteps coming closer. The others have awoken.

“I hope you’re not falling asleep,” Alzona says. “You’re still expected to train.”

“What?” I hear Flurry ask. “Why?”

“Because you’ve been slacking and it’s going to change. You get one day off per week. That’s it. And you had yours, two days ago. Get boozed before your day off if you can’t handle the hangover,” she snaps.

“I only get half a day off.” I lift my head to give her an accusing stare.

Alzona looks at me and shrugs. “Should’ve bargained better.”

“You told me it’s all the fighters got!”

She ignores me and turns to the men, who are cramming meat and bread into their mouths. I shudder, how are they eating?

Alzona shoos them into the gym. “Go on. You’ve already started late.” She looks back at me and smiles. One of those smiles I don’t like. “You, too.”

“I didn’t get a half day off this week because I helped escort you to Tricks.” This is a stretch of what happened, but I feel so ill I don’t care. “I fought well yesterday and I’d like my half day tomorrow.”

She narrows her eyes and then surprises me by nodding - after a nudge from Crystal. The tiny victory gives me the colossal strength required to stand and walk into the gym.

I proceed to have the worst day of my life. I do something I regularly disapprove of - I don’t work hard enough to break a sweat. The only good part is the men are also hungover and can’t summon the effort to tease me about last night. They
do
have enough energy to reenact my singing. I renew my vow never to drink again every time they do. The only thing which gets me through is the reminder of searching for the arrow tomorrow.

I awoke the next morning, relieved to find the hangover gone. “Where are you going today?” Shard asks at breakfast.

I shrug. “Just around.” My words are honest, not a deferral. I have no idea where I’ll go.

“I’m taking my half day off this morning, as well. Do you want company on the walk in so you don’t get lost? We could meet up later, too.” He must originally be from the Middle or Inner rings, he’s too well-spoken.

I can’t keep the relief off my face. “That would be great. Thank you.”

Shard walks me into town and points to a…building? “I’ll be in The Slime. Come find me if you have any trouble.” Part of the roof has collapsed and someone has scratched the words “Ronah’s Slime” into the half-rotten wood above the door. My nose crinkles. Why would Shard willingly go in there? Surely any place with the word “slime” in its description should be avoided. He laughs at my expression and begins jostling away through the thick horde.

I’m alone in the Outer Rings for the second time.

I can’t help but remember what happened the first time. At least there’s daylight and I have some idea of how to get back to the barracks. Whispers trail after me as I wander. Ronah’s Slime starts to seem like an appealing place to be, but then I see people are stepping away, giving me a wide berth. Why would they be doing that? I straighten when I realize. They’ve heard about my fight in the pits.

I have a reputation. It’s better than worrying about plots to kill or sell me and I’ll take anything which makes it easier to get through the mob.

Somehow, I drift to the opening where the naked ladies dance in the windows. Five different paths converge to this one point. It’s as good a place as any to ask my questions.

“Excuse me,” I say to an old lady with a large hump on her back. Old ladies are nice.

“Get off ya,” she snarls. I jerk away from her rancid breathe. Solis, what was her problem?

I try again with the next person who looks my way, a young man. “Can you tell me–”

“Not int’rested love. Jus had a tumble,” he says. He pushes me roughly, staggering past. I close my mouth after a few moments, rubbing my chest where he elbowed me.

It’s the same over the next several hours. Obviously my reputation isn’t enough for the Bruma to listen to my questions, let alone answer them. These people are horrible. And I’m reluctant to threaten anyone for answers. I don’t know who these people are or what connections they might have. It’d be my luck to threaten the leader of some gang.

I sit on a discolored step and try not to think about what might be getting on my trousers. I watch whores wave and dance in the tall building opposite me. Most of them seem like they’re just going through the motions, like puppets, their eyes empty. Pity washes through me as I watch their sad routine. What a way to live. There are some, though, who appear to genuinely enjoy what they’re doing. One beautiful woman dances in the top triangle window. She draws the desiring eye of nearly every man passing through - and the jealous eye of nearly every woman. She disappears periodically, probably to do things I’d rather not think about.

Realizing my life could be a lot worse, I shove my way back to The Slime.

I wrench open the broken door. It bangs on the wall and bounces back. A bald giant glowers at me from where he’s pouring alcohol. I peer through the dusty clutter. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle as I feel the stares of people lurking in the building’s shadows. I spot Shard’s dark blond head and hurry to his table.

“Had a look around?” he asks as I sit opposite him.

I nod. I’m pleased to feel like a friendship is beginning between us, too. I doubt I can have too many of those out here. Perhaps he sees my morning has not gone as planned, because he gives me an amused look and gulps another mouthful. I don’t know how he can drink after yesterday.

I hesitate and decide to tell him part of what I’ve been doing. “People aren’t in the…answering mood today.”

Shard smiles as he swirls his drink. “You know the best thing about the Outer Rings?”

I shake my head as he tosses back the drink and slams the simple looking goblet on the table.

“People are usually in the ‘getting richer’ mood.”

I follow him to the compound. I’ve taken this path several times now. I’m fairly confident I’ll be able to find my way back to the whore’s courtyard by myself. Shard’s hint was loud and clear. I think of all the coin I stole from those men. Next time I’ll bring money with me. I’m smiling by the time we get back, determination renewed.

I’ve settled into an uneasy routine. Uneasy because I don’t get anywhere with my questioning. Shard was right about using the coin. It makes them listen, but it’s like there’s some kind of code against answering. Or maybe they can smell when someone isn’t from here. I can certainly smell when they
are
. I’m starting to get sick of everyone assuming I’m around “for a tumble”, as they so eloquently put it. I judge I have about half a day left until my moral code breaks and I begin using my fists to get results. I’m not on Osolis and I’m not in the castle. There’s a whole different set of rules in the Outer Rings and I’m going to start playing by them.

Then there’s the veil, though I’m not so worried about this. On Osolis, there are fabric shops in the villages. But there was a royal seamstress who made all of my robes. I’m sure she always hated me because of the dull colors I wore to blend in. Here, I haven’t seen anything to help me. No fabric, no clothing shops. Nothing. Maybe I’ll have to search the Middle Rings. The material had to be just right; thick enough to hide my features, but thin enough to allow some visibility in daylight. Malir once brought me a fur coat from a shop so I knew they existed.

Shard interrupts my thoughts.

“Wrath had you pinned last time and I know you got out in the end, but there’s an easier way.” He grunts as he goes through a defensive sequence I’ve just shown him. The last fight against one of Tricks’ men, Wrath, was the hardest I’d had. He wasn’t nasty and snide like the other fighters I usually faced. Afterward, he came to shake hands, much to the amusement of Hale’s bench.  I actually enjoyed the round.

“You going to share your wisdom, or is it a secret?” I ask, pushing weights above my head. Training is becoming more intense as our success continues. Alzona can see the coin and is determined to get it. I suppose the boost in morale has made everyone automatically work a little harder. Except for Ice, who still doesn’t break a sweat. How he’s survived this long in the pits, I don’t know.

Shard chuckles. “Guess I’ll show you. I pity you because you were so easy to beat last time.”

“Whatever. You barely won.” I say.

He stops his sequence and shrugs. “One thing always lets you down,” he says and waves at Blizzard and Flurry to come over.

“What? What is it?” I can’t think of anything obvious. I’ve entered the pit five more times in various sectors since my first fight, winning every match – though with my advantage of surprise gone, it wasn’t as easy as the round with Crush.

Shard taps his longer than average nose. His eyes twinkle as he looks down at me. It strikes me the expression in his eyes is too old for his age. I’ve assumed he’s in his late twenties. It’s obvious the twenty or so years haven’t been easy.

“Can’t tell you that. Then you might win.”

Shard shows me how to escape the hold. I practice on Blizzard first. Then Shard motions for Flurry to pin me so I can try it on a different body type. I look up at Flurry who has his forearm across my chest. Jovan pinned me like this twice. The first time to rip off my veil, the second while overreacting to my decision to learn the dog sleds.

Flurry’s cheeks are flushed and though we’re only a couple of finger widths from each other, he somehow avoids my gaze. He’s always hesitant around me, yet I’ve seen him act perfectly normal with the men, and other women. Maybe he’s just shy.

As soon as I get out of the hold, he jumps away and returns to the weights section. Blizzard laughs at his retreating back.

“What’s up with him?” I ask. Shard and Blizzard share a look and snigger. They turn away, ignoring my question and I remember Shard’s earlier comment.

“Wait, you didn’t tell me what I’m doing wrong,” I call out.

The fight next week is in Sector Six. I keep careful track of the lanes and occasional landmarks as we go. Once we escape the packed mass of low overhanging roofs, I’m startled to see how close we are to the Oscala. I never realized my position. The Bruma call it the Great Stairway. The floating rocky islands are the only means of access and communication between our two worlds.

We crunch and slip through settled snow in the shadows of tall brown and green trees until we come to the twisting lanes of the Sixth. Travelling by foot doubled the journey from one area to the next.  It was much quicker to travel through the larger streets between each sector, or by a sled and team, but Shard says we travel this way to avoid alerting the Watch. I’m impressed by Outer Rings tactics. The people here are technically the least influential on Glacium, but they have numbers. If they want something badly enough they have the power to take it. Turns out the pits qualify as a good enough reason.

Like my world, Glacium is split into six sectors. Where Osolis is unimaginably hot and in constant danger of fire, Glacium is the extreme opposite - deathly cold. Both of our worlds depend on the other for a livable climate - ironic considering our mutual hate. The point where the worlds are closest, the First Sectors, have the mildest temperature. The Fourth Sectors - the furthest from the other world - are unlivable. This wouldn’t be so bad if the Fourth in each world could be avoided. But the two planets rotate, meaning every part of each world moves through the Fourth position. It’s impossible to stay in one spot for the entire three years it takes to complete a revolution. Instead, the Solati and Bruma migrate every one and a half years to avoid the fire and smoke, or blistering freeze. This necessitates there be two castles on Glacium, and two palaces on Osolis. And so, like the rest, Alzona has two barracks. A spare to use when the other was in the Fourth Sector. She doesn’t own a compound in the Sixth, so we’re staying with Tricks’ group. Tricks owns a compound in every sector. We stayed with him in Sector Two, as well. In the six weeks I’ve been here, his fighters have done almost as well as Hale’s group. I don’t know why he’s taken Alzona under his wing when her barracks are so far below his own. He seems genuinely nice, maybe this is reason enough.